


Red As Love

by the_lie_eternal



Category: Poets of the Fall
Genre: AU, Dramatic, I had to write this, M/M, Songfic, mindfuck again, the muse - Freeform, the poet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 17:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14549487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_lie_eternal/pseuds/the_lie_eternal
Summary: Markus loved his muse, Jaska loved his poet.





	Red As Love

**Author's Note:**

> A sonfic to the German original "Rot Wie Die Liebe" by Eisbrecher, translated by me ^^  
> Enjoy this mindfuck xD

_A night like rough silk_

_A heartbeat of ice_

 

A rare moment to be seen between the poet and his muse, closely clutched together, feeling nothing but so-called love. Nights like these were exceptionally, the poet was no fan of body contact, however it was his muse’s will. Markus accepted that Jaska was a man of spoken words, of gestures, of visible relations and love. Jaska accepted that Markus was a man of written words, of isolation, loneliness and darkness.

That night was different. The poet gave himself to his lover, the poet tried to find a way out of his blockade. His muse did not know about the struggles his partner went through, Markus did not talk about his worries without being asked to do so. Jaska did not ask, so Jaska did not know.

The poet did not know if it helped him, if his muse dragged him out of his pain once again as many times before. They needed to wait, the poet needed to wait.

 

_Silhouettes in the dark, spinning in circles_

_Surrounded by nothing, lost in humility_

_Familiar but still lonely_

 

Markus had never been much talkative. It even went this far that several people he met thought that he wasn’t able to speak, physically. He was, of course, but found his passion in words, written words … poems. Could a man without voice survive in today’s society?

Nobody searched for the poet. If someone did, finding him was easy, the most time in his life he spent in his office. “Storage room of hell” was it nicknamed by Jaska. The poet liked that name, it described the feeling he had, every time he locked himself up in it.

The office was Markus’ safe space, the only source of light was a handful of candles, all furniture in it was an old desk and a fitting chair. More the poet did not want, it was all he needed to be happy. The muse was not allowed to ever enter the office. The poet kept his demons, his imagination, his whole alternative world was kept in this room. Markus was afraid of Jaska getting hurt … hurt by himself.

The poet doesn’t like to remember his life before he found his muse. Said life was lonely and dark, darker than his own mind. Markus loved his muse, Jaska loved his poet.

 

_Awoken in life, born in light_

_Who knows how it will end, everything changes_

_You gift the world to me, penetrate me deep inside_

 

Jaska had always been a great socializer, he loved to talk, he loved to share every thought he had with the poet. However, Jaska also knew when to be silent, when to leave the poet alone, when he had to go to bed alone while Markus worked in his office.

The muse met his poet in a cold winter night, Markus tried to get home in peace, in silent. Jaska fought the robbers off, asked the poet if he was alright but the poet did not answer. He was unable to speak, not because he avoided it … because he found what he was searching for during his whole life.

Markus immediately loved his muse.

It had been a struggle at first, Jaska did not understand what Markus was, what Markus wanted. Still the muse loved the poet. He was the light the poet needed, the love he needed … the human he needed by his side.

 

_Too good to be true_

 

It was Jaska who cheered Markus up when the poet felt depressed. Jaska pulled Markus out on the streets, between people – places Markus absolutely hated to be. The poet was still thankful, he was thankful when Jaska went over the borders the poet gave to him. Jaska knew the limits of his lover. He knew when he had to stop, he knew when he could continue.

There were days the poet hated his muse – days the poet praised his muse.

 

_Red as love, red as a ruby_

_I lose control, it draws me close to you_

 

“What are you doing? Searching for affection?” Jaska chuckled as the poet silently stepped into the living room after spending the whole day in the office. The poet nodded, Jaska slightly smiled sadly as he spotted the glassy and red eyes of his lover. Markus was breathing heavily, wordlessly he laid down next to his muse on the couch. Jaska flinched together as he felt the poets’ arms wrapping around him, searching for body contact. He wasn’t used of his lover initiating any signs of affection, not at all.

“I have seen horrible things … horrible … horrible.” The poet muttered and buried his face inside the muse’s shirt, leaving wet stains of tears.

“Nobody will hurt you as long as you are with me. I will be your voice.” Jaska promised as he gently blew a kiss on Markus’ head.

 

_Red as love, red as a ruby_

_I lose control because I am so sensual_

 

“Will I ever be able to see what’s inside of the room you call your office?” Jaska asked in a relaxed moment of relationship homely atmosphere, Markus had to laugh, as rarely as he was seen doing that.

“Death, you find death.” Markus shook his head and licked his lips.

“As if dating you is no death already.” The muse raised his brow and stood up from his chair just to walk over the poet. They both had to laugh before Jaska smooched his lover and readied himself to leave their home to socialize with his own friends.

“I guess you won’t tag along?” He asked before he went to put on his shoes.

Markus shook his head, answer enough for the muse.

 

_Your body is fire, your veins made of embers_

_You burn in my soul and it is good this way_

 

The muse was worried, the poet locked himself up for more than three days, not to be seen outside. There was no sound to be heard outside the door, Markus did not answer on any calls either.

Jaska was nervous, he cared about Markus but he was forbidden to enter the office at any cost.

Jaska had to enter the office, what if Markus was in trouble.

Jaska could not enter the office, what if Markus did not lie and death awaited.

 

Jaska could not hold himself as he woke up on the fourth day and the door was still locked.

 

_So precious and eternal, complete and pure_

_Too good to be true_

 

“Why would you ignore my warnings.” Markus’ voice sounded so much more different than usually. Jaska could not see anything other than the poet’s face, it was terrifying … Markus was … changed.

Jaska tried to speak, however his throat couldn’t produce any sound. His voice, where did his voice go?

“Stupid idiot.” Markus hissed and disappeared out of the candlelight. Jaska gulped as darkness completely cradled him.

 

The poet’s muse, he had seen horrible things … horrible … horrible.


End file.
